


I'll Return And Be Damned

by sonicsora



Category: Brütal Legend
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, Demons Are Assholes, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Feels, Forced Pregnancy, Gen, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Psychological Torture, Recovery, Revenge, Suicidal Thoughts, Tainted Coil, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 12:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16576769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora
Summary: Hatred is a powerful force. When wielded it can produce something beautifully wretched. Doviculus knows this intimately, it is why he takes one of the human rebellion leaders as his own. Lita Halford shall become his most beautiful creation yet. A brood mother for a new generation of demons.Lita has other plans. She'll stoke her hate, she'll be angry, but she will taste blood for herself. She cannot be stopped, she will not let a demon break her. Doviculus doesn't know just who he's decided to take. He doesn't realize her hate can outdo his own in ways he least expects.The real question is will hate be enough to propel her to survive? How will she handle this new life, this new hell?





	1. In hell I'll be in good company

**Author's Note:**

> kick flips into the garbage. 
> 
> hello again, its me. I return to AO3 carrying a horrifying fic for all. Thanks to Chefpief for this horrible idea and encouraging me to write it. Also many thanks to the powerful Meme Emperor (brutalhearts666) for helping stoke the fire.
> 
> I swear to fuck this will actually be more than just Lita suffering.

She struggles against the yoke of the chain, trying to gain some leverage to move. Lita finds only frustration with each movement. Her skin is already rubbed raw in places where the manacles bite into exposed flesh. 

Her wrists are pinned firmly down against the cold smooth stone table she’s been seated upon. It leaves her arms pressed tightly against her sides. Her elbows poking at her bare sides. Her knees ache from supporting her weight on the table. She is stuck in a permanent kneel. Her position has only been changed once or twice throughout the week, leaving the blonde exhausted. Time is meaningless in this place, the bright lights and constant silence makes it hard for Lita to gauge just how long she’s been here. 

Her body is bare and her hair matted with sweat. It sticks to her forehead in clumps. The blood had been forcibly washed from her body hours ago, she had dried and only become damp from the heat of the room. 

The room is sterile, warm and oddly dry. It leaves her feeling uncomfortable and wanting to move, not that she can. 

Fresh air is almost a relief when the doorway nearby opens, the demonic emperor steps through. His lips pull into a smile. 

The smile alone stokes the fire of anger in Lita’s gut. Her teeth cut into the ball gag as she leans forward to glower at the demon. 

“Still active I see.” Doviculus muses breezily as he strolls over to where Lita is chained. He casually tests the chains, unworried about Lita herself. “A good sign of your usefulness. Most break by now. Humans are… so delicate.” His smile shifts into a smirk, “I think you’ll be perfect for my plans.” 

She snarls wetly around the gag, struggling against the chains regardless of the metal cutting into her skin. 

Doviculus just chuckles lightly at her struggle, “You’re wasting your energy when you could be using it so much more efficiently.” 

He reaches out towards her face, unclasping the ball gag, pulling it back. Lita slurs her words as she speaks. “I’m going to enjoy skinning you.” 

That earns an uproarious laugh from the demon emperor. He plays with the ball gag idly as he speaks, “You act like you have a future beyond what I chose for you. It’s almost cute on your part.” He spins the ball on a finger, flashing his teeth in a bright smile. He sets the ball gag aside for now. 

“Are you not curious of your fate?” 

Lita wrinkles her nose, “Marginally.” Lita is reluctant to admit much to the demon before her. 

“Marginally she says.” He waves a hand dismissively, laughing again. His amusement made Lita’s blood boil. “For the Queen of Humanity, I thought it only fair I bring you into the fold. Make you earn such a title you crave. I’ve needed a new brood mother for this generation of coil. Given that delicious hate, I feel you would fit my needs perfectly. So much hate just there for my purposes.” 

Lita’s eyes widen as she goes pale in the moment, she can’t find her voice just this once. 

“Your lot killed so many of my children, I think it’s only fair.” He reaches out to teasingly raise her chin with his index finger. “Have you never thought of it?”

Lita’s tries to pull back, finding herself unable to due to her restraints. She finally finds her voice, venom staining every word. “Of a demon inside of me? Never.” 

“Start to wrap your mind around it.” He taps her nose mockingly. “Your hatred will be more than enough to do the trick. Its borderline love. It rivals my own.” 

Lita bristles angrily, “I’d love to see you dead.” 

“Mnnn, do tell me more.” His hand finds her chin, grip tightening. He forces Lita to meet his eyes. “I do love to see the fire of hatred burning bright.” 

“Fuck.You.” She hisses back, wincing when Doviculus’s nail digs into her flesh. His voice is dripping with amusement as he speaks. “Give it time, Queen of Bladehenge.” The familiar name of home leaves an ache in Lita’s chest she can’t contain. 

“Why not just- kill me.” She spits back, “Gets the point across much faster.”

“Of all the humans, I’ve met. Your hatred is the only one I consider a genuine threat. Killing you would be a complete waste. Beauty can be born from such magnificent hatred under the right conditions.” 

He releases her chin to pat her cheek. Lita flinches back the best she can. “Stay angry, won’t you?” With that he is leaves the same way he came, only pausing to take the ball gag with him.

The best Lita can do is glare. Her mind spins angrily on plans of revenge, of how she’ll dismember the bastard herself as soon as she frees herself. 

\---

When the room isn’t empty, the only company Lita has tends to be Nuns. The Battle Nuns speak over her, ignoring anything the blonde woman says. They barely pay her much mind beyond forcing her to be still or adjusting her on the table for whatever they’re doing. Her thrashing and fighting is ignored as more of them pile onto her to keep her still. 

They insert needles, take blood, and cut pieces of her away, but never speak directly to her. When the Nuns aren’t here, the room is near silent. Lita’s mind struggles against the quiet, bouncing between panic and anger in an endless cycle. 

The chains keep her bound in place, her body held firmly place against the cold surface of the table. She wants to attack, to hurt them as much as they hurt her, to pull Doviculus apart piece by piece, but- she cannot. 

As time passes and she’s openly ignored, she feels hints of desperation creep up the longer it goes on. Even when others are present, they pay her so little mind she screams and screams. Even when they aren’t prying her ribcage open with a wet crack. When their hands aren’t exploring flesh and bone far too intimately. 

The most acknowledgment she gets is a stern, “Naughty girl!” and backhanded slap. 

Lita hates the fact she’s relieved by that much. The pain ignites anger and the two yell at one another. Lita takes advantage of the outlet. Her voice echoes against the walls, so loud and so real she feels like she can really think. 

The Nun who backhands her never appears again, replaced by a Warfather. He never bothers to look at her, speaking of her to anyone else in the room. Grief would be so easy to fall into for anyone else, but anger boils under Lita’s skin. All she can focus on is the anger pulling at every fiber of her being. The desperation is gone in place of revenge planned to the smallest detail. 

Anger leaves a sour taste in the back of her mouth. 

She pukes bile on the next Nun. Black bile dribbles down her chin as she bares her teeth. Fingers push past her teeth, examining her tongue, her throat. A hand is coated in the black viscous bile when it pulls back. 

All Lita can do is puke again, laughing bitterly. 

_Stay angry._

—— 

Flesh mutates, curling around wires, fusing with bone and glass. Lita has no idea how long it really takes. She knows scars have wrapped, tattoos have disappeared into newly grown flesh and leather. 

Her body is something else now, something Lita hasn’t seen for herself. She isn’t sure she cares anymore. She simply knows anger burning in her ribcage. 

Her heart beats only for anger, for revenge. She pictures pulling Doviculus apart bit by bit. Rending his skin from bone, hearing his cries echo in the clean air. She can wait, she can bide her time. 

She lets it loop, lets it burn brightly inside of her. Even if her world remains the same. 

Her surroundings are as they always are, stark clean white, smooth tabletop surface, nuns visiting every few hours. Not that Lita knows what time of day it is. 

The room is always the same. 

The same bright lights, the same putrid smell. She realized after some time the smell was _her_. 

Wires coiled tightly around her arm, poke out from new flesh grown over it. Lita can feel metal jangling against her ribs, loose bones colliding as she finally moves position. Familiar gloved hands push back against her bare back. 

Lita almost bites a Nun who lets her arm get too close to her mouth. She snarls wordlessly, struggling and thrashing. The noises she makes earns an annoyed look from the Nun. 

Lita’s mouth curls into a vicious smile, skin rending apart to reveal gums and teeth. She’s pushed back into place roughly. 

Lita just laughs sharply back. She struggles against her bonds, all brittle bones, and anger wrapped in cut skin. 

She keeps laughing when the first brood happens. It’s disgusting, wretched, she hates the very sight of each demon that emerges from her own flesh. She keeps count of each, planning to kill every single one of them. Every brood, is remembered. 

_1, 2, 4, 8, 9, 10, 19, 30, 33, 50, 51, 54…._

\---

Days blur in a cacophony of heady silence. When she is not brooding for Doviculus’ army, she is alone to her thoughts. Just this once there are no Nuns, no Warfathers, no idle Soul Kissers watching in amazement as her body brings forth demonic life. She isn’t forced to meet eyes with the creatures that burst forth from her body. 

Lita is alone to suffer and stoke the coals of her anger. She runs over what has happened, what Ironheade must be doing, where they’ve likely buried her brother… 

Her warped hands with their clawed fingers dig into the edge of the table she’s on. “Lars.” Drops from her mouth, raspy and unsteady. The only solace of his death is the fact he’ll never see her like this. 

She tries to drowse, but can never properly relax in the position she’s been placed in. She’s been left open to the dry sterile air, her heart beating in her chest languidly at this point. The human organ thumps almost too loudly. 

A sadder part wishes she could wrap her own hand around it and crush it into silence. 

The rest of her settles in to picture flaying Doviculus alive. Anger is much easier than grief. She finally drifts into an idle sleep picturing ripping Doviculus head free from its shoulders with her bare hands. Once he's dead, she will enjoy the feeling of sunshine on her skin and fresh air. She will taste food again, she'll see the world again.

\--- 

One day. 

One day.

He comes back. 

He laughs at the sight of her. Lita sits still, watching him intently. 

He shocks her by stepping forward to undo her bonds, letting her step down from the table. He extends his hand to her. Freedom is tantalizingly so close.

Lita eyes him, accepting it with a wide smile. He walks her out, to pleased applause from his people. 

Oh Brood Mother, Oh Brood Mother they call to her. She remembers each face, born of her body, born of his blood. Her womb housed them, produced them, made them stronger. 

Their fingers are laced as he leads her through the kingdom, his voice velvet and full of lies. He has a promise, a promise of a future with no humans. A promise she will brood until she has no other wants.

Lita smiles. 

Lita _smiles_.

Lita just smiles so kindly, so brokenly he never notices. He brings her to his chambers, pleased to have broken and bent anger to his will. He keeps her. Like all the Coil she is compliant to her master. 

He kisses each warped knuckle upon her hand, praising her for her great deeds. How she’s brought the coil to its greatest power yet. Her hatred was key to his success. She laughs nastily, jaw creaking as she opens it to reveal rows upon rows of teeth grown in. 

She bides her time, she smiles, she preens. She is merely Brood Mother. Her actual name is never spoken by Doviculus nor any other demon. They want to pretend. They want her to merely live as her title. She subsists with them. 

Until she finds her Halberd in his treasury the night he does not lock his door. The heft of it feels good in her hand, right even in the disgusting mangled mess of bones arranged to form the hand. She cuts through the air in practice before making her way back to her and Doviculus chambers. 

Doviculus dies as he lived, disgusting, wretched, screaming. Lita takes her time pulling his bones open, consuming the marrow as his corpse grows cold wrapped in his bed linens. She will eat every other demon she’s made or has not made.

“You told me to stay angry.” She slurs, clawed fingers twisting his horn from his head with a wet pop. “ ** _I did_**.”


	2. Push shove, a little bruised and battered

The coil die, bit by bit. Without their emperor, without her womb, they cannot subsist. It is the only comfort Lita takes from everything. Any demon foolish enough to venture into the heart of their own lands she devours until only bones remain. 

A grand palace has become a graveyard of her feasts. It is what she can tentatively call a home. The palace spirals out into a massive portion of land, leaving Lita with ground to cover each day when she stalks around. New places to rest after a hunt. She used to find occasional clusters of demons in the bowels of the building itself, masterless and lost as what to do with themselves. 

She made so many of the demons, she shall take them back as sustenance. 

She swore she would defeat the demons, and she has kept that promise. Each day she spends time picking off demons who dare approach, desperate and desolate. They seek guidance and only gain death. She adds their bones to her piles, she takes enjoyment out of crushing the life out of them. She has no mercy for any of them. Their Emperor is dead and there will be no more of them. 

Now, now the palace is empty beyond her. Beyond rats and other wild animals that manage to sneak inside. 

Lita washes her clawed hands off in the water basin, careful not to waste too much of it before she dries off. She eyes herself in the cracke mirror by the bed Doviculus once called his. She winces at the sight of herself, awkwardly pulling some haphazard clothing back on to cover the tarnished flesh she’s been given. Her leather corset does not fit the way it once did, at best it holds up her chest and marginally covers it, but leaves her back exposed. Her pants are not even going to remotely fit, so she uses loose fabric from fallen bodies to make a makeshift skirt. The heels from a Nun are the only footwear she can find that’ll fit. Even then she prefers to go without shoes given how often she climbs through the building. She ties her hair back awkwardly, half tempted to just shred the ends of it off to make her life easier. Nudity doesn’t bother her, but some semblance of clothing is comfortable after being forced to into being bear or leather. 

Lita clambering up and out of her private chambers onto the rafters overhead. She travels quietly humming to herself occasionally until she finds the rafters above the library. Their grand stained glass windows offer the most sunlight. 

She hunkers down on a rafter, lounging in a sunbeam that comes through the stain glassed windows overhead. Her elongated limbs hang lazily over the edge as she dozes. 

The quiet isn’t as horrifying as it once was. Not now that she can hear the wind and feel the sun on her body. The world suddenly exists again, even in such a small capacity she shall take it. 

She dreams of Bladehenge, she dreams of her brother, she dreams of Eddie, of Ophelia. She dreams of peace. 

She only awakens hours later when the sky has cooled and she must clamber down to duck into bedchambers to avoid the chill. Her elongated form curls tight under blankets and fur, taking what luxury she can in this dry landscape.

Only when she emerges for the next day, she sees dust clouds in the distance. The blonde has to wonder if the coil has reformed and are trying to retake their capital. She skitters up and over the rafters, scaling upwards through the grand building to climb out of the highest tower. 

“What is out there…?” 

\--- 

The cloud only grows larger as it grows closer, it becomes more obvious with time it is coming towards the palace. She makes a habit of watching it every day after she hunts. 

When nothing truly changes beyond proximity, she forces herself to keep her schedule. She sleeps, she hunts, she washes, she eventually cuts her hair to a more comfortable familiar length. She can recognize only her face in mirrors, even then, she does not feel like she does before. She does not look as she does. 

She would wallow if she let herself, but a new task is at hand. A new war to wage. 

Whatever it is that comes to the palace will be dealt with soon, but, she needs her rest. Lita knows staying low and out of sight is best for now, to see what will be coming to _her_ doorstep. 

If Doviculus has any allies left for her, he’ll soon have them join him in the grave. She intends to destroy what hurt her family so. 

What took Lars from her. 

Doviculus kin shall not live whilst she lives. She will destroy every demon she can get her claws onto. She turns the thought over in her head as time passes, finding her usual spot to bask in as she waits. 

She only rises from basking when the sun sets, when the air cools significantly. She shifts through the rafters, eventually dropping back into her bedroom. Doviculus chambers belong to her and her alone now. She has aired it out enough his scent no longer lingers. She can only smell the dirt, sand, and her own rot. She plucks out what glass she can from her flesh, but can't make the injuries heal any faster. 

She takes a moment to sneer at his skull set off to the side on a dresser. The greatest trophy she’s collected. Her tormenter’s flesh no longer resides on the skull, long since stripped away and consumed. She’s kept his bones around, for decorative purposes, for trophies, it depends on her mood. His hallowed out hooves make an excellent cup. 

Lita drifts over to the skull, picking it up in her hand. “I hope you’re regretting your choices.” She taps her claws against the side of the skull, finding familiar grooves from the last few times she’s done this. Held him aloft and taunted the dead. “You’ve made a monster. Was all the hatred worth it?” 

She tilts her head, eying the skull. Her voice drops into a whisper, eyes narrowing. “You destroyed your people, I can only guess how you mourn wherever you are. Your children cry out and you can do _nothing_.” 

Her hand quakes, the inclination to crush the skull at the edge of her wants before she steadies herself. Lita settles it back down on the dresser wordlessly. She steps away, moving to undress, washing from a basin as she listens to the wind rattle the shutters over her window. She curls tightly into a ball on the bed, staring out at the dark walls. 

If she closes her eyes, she can pretend she’s in Bladehenge. She can pretend Lars will be waking her up too early to excitedly talk of the future. 

She wants to pretend, just for a while.

\--- 

When the dust cloud grows so much bigger, she forces herself back inside. She can make out the gleam of metal catching the sunshine through the dust of the vehicle encroaching her territory. It isn’t a surprise to see the demons have figured out The Titans secrets by copying mankind. It was inevitable in a way. Demons have always copied, what have they ever created beyond suffering? 

They’ll arrive within a few days. She knows she needs to prepare herself. Surprise weighs heavily in her favor for now. They might know _of_ her, but not where she lurks. They do not know her advantages or weaknesses. She is Brood Mother gone rogue. They want to hammer her back into place. Doviculus’ greatest creation needs to be used to rebuild the coil, to bring power to an empire once again, whether she likes it or not. 

The thought alone makes Lita hiss softly to herself as she drops down from the rafters, landing aptly on the cold stone tiles. She lets her gaze sweep across the hallway, settling on the decorative sconce before her. It houses a candle burning brightly even now. Demonic magic keeps it lit no matter the time. Lita balls her hand into a fist and swings at it. It shatters and the magic candle burns out finally when exposed to the air. Glass bites at her skin, bringing black blood to the surface as she breaks the candle into pieces. 

She smashes sconces throughout the hallways, breaks light fixtures in the grand library and dining hall, throws bones on the stairwells. She shatters glass windows, breaks ladders leading upwards. The towers will belong solely to her now. Even if any demon has wings, the area is too tight for accurate flight. 

She trawls the palace whispering softly to herself as she pulls apart every room, ensuring no demon still lives within _her_ walls. No demon will have an upper hand over her again. 

Lita makes due with stealing weaponry from rooms left behind, hoarding it in the long deserted Treasury. She locks it down tight, swallowing the key. The clatters against teeth on its way down, until it settles within her. 

There will be no surprises if she gets her way.


	3. My life's a bit more colder

The arrival is almost _too_ loud. Lita winces openly at the sounds, moving through the rafters quietly as she can manage and crouching down in the main entryway. She sits and waits. She intends to watch as much as attack unexpectedly. Lack of light means she’ll have the advantage, even with the sunlight overhead the palace itself is darker than a tomb. 

They will only get so far in her home. They’ve already burst through the front gateway, invaded the courtyard itself. Whoever they are swarming loudly. She can hear they’ve broken down the front door. _Great._

She watches the grand iron door leading into the throne room. Before long those outside begin hammering at the door uselessly. Lita crouches down, ready to pounce as the door rattles on its hinges. The force is mighty. The force means there are enough demons she won’t be bored for a long time. 

The bloodlust only drops when she listens again. 

Her breath shakes when she hears a familiar voice bounce against the cavernous walls. 

“Doviculus! We come for you and your kin!” 

Ironheade crowds behind him as they pound at the doors. The iron doors are tough, but not for the onslaught of so many pounding at it at once. 

“Lars.” She whispers, panic on the edge of making her hide deeper in the shadows. She digs her claws into the wood, hauling herself upwards, higher and higher as the rebellion break down the door. The readiness to attack drops away in favor of too many emotions for her to keep contained.

Her brother is _alive_. Her brother is **_alive_**. 

She had thought Doviculus killed Lars the day the demon emperor took her. 

It’s enough to make blood pool under her eyes, black tears staining her face as she shakes where she’s crouched. She manages to force herself up the rafters, clawing her way deeper into the shadows as the door finally falls to Ironheade’s attacks. She cannot face them. She can’t see their reactions directly. 

Lita sucks in a breath through her teeth, causing the skin around her jaw to flap loosely as she listens. Ironheade’s response at the horror going on below at their discovery does little to comfort her. 

She can never go back. 

No matter how much she wants to. She wipes at her eyes, desperate for some semblance of control. 

Lita stays atop the rafters, listening intently as Ironheade explores. They find the chaos she wrought. The inner landing of the palace is littered with bones. Each demon body has been picked clean of flesh, organs and the like. Bones have been cracked open for their marrows. Tatters of their clothes lay in a rumpled pile around Doviculus’ throne. She had scattered them to stir fear, and it is working. 

Humans flood her home and Lita pushes her way through a crack overhead, into the inner recesses of the demonic palace. She can’t let them see her. She runs away. 

She runs away from something she wanted so desperately. 

She finds her room, settles down for now in the soft bedding. She hides, embarrassed by herself and fearful of the reality before her. Ironheade is here. Her comfortable world of silence is crumbling around her. She wanted them, and now… they were here. 

“Will they even know its me?” She questions aloud weakly, pulling blankets tightly around herself, trying to find some comfort in the chill of the palace. She will wait until they leave, she can wait them out. She’s waited for worse. 

—— 

“Holy shit.” Eddie breaths out, eyes wide as he nudges some bones with the toe of his sneaker. It rolls to the side, clattering against other bones on the stone floors. “What the fuck happened?” 

“Did the coil have a civil war…?” Ophelia questions with a confused frown. “Is that why the demons suddenly stopped attacking us?” 

Lars shook his head, confused eyes roaming the bones scattered across the stone tiles. Furniture has been upended, glass broken and clothes torn to shreds. Dried blood stains the floors and walls in places. Someone or something was killed violently here. 

“Something much worse had to do this.” He exhaled, recognizing some of the marks on the bones. “It ate them.” 

“Ate-?” Eddie recoiled in horror. Lars picked up a bone, holding it out to Eddie pointing at the teeth marks. He turned the bone in his hand, giving a thoughtful noise. “The marrow is gone as well…” 

“Fuck.” Eddie claps a hand against his face, eyes wide as he stares grimly at the bone piles. The added layer only makes things much worse.

“We have bigger problems than the Tainted Coil.” Ophelia muses, hand drifting to the hilt of her blade. Lars drops the bone in his grasp to turn and face the waiting troops. As they filter in, the horror dawns on them as well. Idle panicky conversations erupt, speculation on what the Coil has done to itself arises.

“Ironheade!” He calls out, holding his blade aloft. “Tread carefully! We do not know what lurks in these halls or if Doviculus lingers here still!” 

A general murmur of agreement comes from within the crowd. Eddie steps up, holding his palms up to help steady things further. “We will go in groups of five, people, stick together.” 

“If you find any demons alive, bring them to one of us for questioning. We need to know what happened.” Lars states firmly, “We need to see what just wiped out so many demons.” 

Ophelia starts organizing the various parties. Eddie walks over to Lars, content to let Ophelia take charge in the moment. “The fuck you think happened?” 

“I have nary an idea Edward.” Lars rubs his cheek uncertainly, “Either the Coil have turned on one another or we’ve walked into a very dangerous trap they’ve set.” 

“I’ve seen some of the monsters they’ve keep, this sure fits with their whole fucked up theme.” Eddie muses with an uncertain frown. “Ophelia and I decapitated one, so… this shouldn’t be any harder, yeah?” 

“Lets hope so, my friend.”

Groups of five start departing to explore the palace, walkie talkies on hand. Ophelia, Eddie and Lars make base in the main entrance. An anxious Mangus sets up a board to boost the walkie ranges, checking in with people. Reports range from more bones to animals half eaten being left out, but no sight of _what_ exactly has left this carnage in its wake. 

\--- 

No one sleeps in the palace, the blatant refusal isn’t surprising. Eddie sure as hell doesn’t want to sleep in corpse mountain, he’s not about to make anyone else do it. As night falls and no news of anything alive come in, Eddie and Ophelia start calling people back. The more people come back, the weirder of a picture they get. There is definitely something lurking around here. People speculate wildly, only winding each other up in the process. 

The only positive of the exploration is they’ve managed to cobble together a vague map of the layout of places they’ve explored. It gives them some idea of where shit is.

Eddie has managed to get most of Ironheade back to the Tour Bus, Mangus in charge of taking the fuck off if anything bursts out of the damn palace. The only ones left are Lars and himself. 

“Lars, c’mon, its gettin’ dark.” He gently tugs on his friend’s elbow. “It’s quittin’ time.” 

“We can’t stop now-“ The blonde sighs back, shaking Eddie off. His gaze is focused on the dark hallways leading deeper into the palace. “What if Doviculus is deeper in the bowels of this building laughing at us?” 

“He can laugh and get chewed on by whatever the fuck is in here. So far nobody has died, no one even got hurt, sides Charlie- mostly cause he tripped over a corpse.” Eddie jerks his thumb back in the direction of the Headbanger bemoaning his luck as Kill Master heals him. 

“We aren’t findin’ anythin’ today.” 

“I want to take a look for myself.” Lars states simply, Eddie opens his mouth to argue- but Lars seems to see that coming. “I’ll take a walkie talkie.” 

The roadie groans at that, pinching the bridge of his nose. No way in hell is he letting Lars stumble around in the dark in enemy territory, no matter how empty it seems. “Lars- c’mon!” 

“I need to know, Edward. I need to know for certain.” 

“Runnin’ into danger headlong is _my_ job, Lars.” 

“Trust me, I will call for help immediately and run back if something goes wrong.” Lars seems intent on arguing his point. Already having made up his mind about going. “Besides, Edward. I want to… be the first to find what is left of my sister.” 

That strikes Eddie silent, he sucks in a breath. The roadie had been trying not to think about the possibility, no, the fact they weren’t going to find Lita alive here. It had been… far too long since they had seen Lita alive. It wasn’t likely she survived whatever this was. “Lars… Fuck.” 

The blonde man’s gaze drops off to the side, expression growing conflicted. Grief battles against frustration. Eddie can tell whatever is going on in Lars mind isn’t… great. To put it lightly. “I don’t want someone to step over her and kick her to the side. Please, give me this much.” 

Eddie openly winces at that, rubbing his cheek uncomfortably. Lars has clearly been thinking about this all day. 

“Can’t you at least do this during the day?” Eddie questions, relenting unhappily to the request. How can he say no to Lars about this?

“I’m a grown man, Edward.” The blonde man’s expression brightens somewhat, he pats Eddie’s shoulder genuinely. He tries to comfort Eddie in this this weird moment. “I can handle walking around on my own.” 

Eddie almost immediately has regrets when he hands Lars a walkie. He scrounges up a light for Lars as well given the darkness has only grown deeper with time. He grimly watches Lars leave as he turns back on the walkie-talkie soundboard to amplify its range. He picks up his own radio speaking into it as Lars disappears completely from sight. “Please don’t fucking die.” 

Lars laughs and Eddie only vaguely feels less worried. Vaguely. 

\----

As silence settles back over the palace, Lita emerges from the bedroom she calls her own. She makes sure the door itself is locked before she climbs up through the hole in the ceiling onto the rafters. Her claws dig into the wood, giving her leverage to push onwards. 

She hates hunting at night, but her options are limited. Ironheade has combed through most of the palace at this point, giving her very little time to go anywhere. 

She hefts herself up, pulling herself through a hole. Fresh air is almost a relief as she comes through the roof. She drifts around, peering down cautiously at the familiar sight of the Tour Bus. Campfires have been set up and people are settling down for the night in the demonic courtyard. Lita finds only mild pleasure in seeing the carefully tended displays destroyed. Doviculus would have hated that and it carries her onwards to her hunt. 

She finds her balance on the edge before diving down to another spiraling tower. She lands on her feet, wincing as she sends roof tiles falling to the ground. 

“Don’t attract attention.” She mutters to herself before moving to jump again, landing a bit more carefully now. When she gets to a spire closer to the ground, she leaps down into the dry dirt. A dust cloud plumes from the landing but its swept up by the winds beating at the landscape. 

The winds give her a chance to properly sneak up on any animal she wants at least. It doesn’t take her long to find a Raptor Elk, she snaps its neck quickly putting the poor animal out of its suffering. 

She makes quick work of eating limbs, any hanging pieces to avoid any messes before she heads back home. A limp elk body hanging from her secondary jaw. 

When she gets inside she finds a quiet spot to eat. Wholly unaware of the blood dribbling down the wall she’s perched over. Lita only realizes this is a problem when someone cries out in alarm. She startles dropping the half-eaten elk and taking off through the rafters of the building. 

Panic makes her skitter back to her own chambers, wary of being caught out in the open. 

—— 

The walkie-talkie crackles to life, “Edward. I might need your assistance.” 

Hearing Lars immediately sets Eddie into a slight panic as he leans forward. “Oh god, are you okay?” 

“I am fine just… damp.” The wet sloshing sound Eddie can hear around Lars is not really making the word damp good. 

Eddie paused squinting at his walkie-talkie, “Damp?”

“I can assure you, none of it is my own bodily fluids.” 

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wow, that’s sure comforting. What the hell happened?” 

“Would you believe the wall started bleeding and an elk dropped from the roof?” 

“Wow, I hate this, thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.” Lars sounds a bit too amused for a man apparently covered in blood. Eddie can almost picture his expression and it makes the roadie want to drink a beer or six. “I think I’m at least on the trail of what lives here, be it accidentally.” 

“Lars, if you chase after it whilst covered in blood I am gonna kick your ass.” 

“I can’t lose this lead, my friend!” Lars sounds more encouraged by this than anyone should be. Eddie cradles his face in his hand. “I’ll return to change and mark this down on our map. I think that is a good compromise for now.” 

“Thank fuck.” Eddie breaths to himself before holding down the button to speak. “I’ll be waiting for you, stay safe!” Eddie is only able to relax once he sees Lars light bobbling down the hallway. 

He winces openly at how much blood and gore the man is covered in. Lars looks like he stumbled out of a high school after a psychic gone mad at prom. “Jesus fuckin’ christ.” Lars flicks the light he has off as he steps into their would be control room.

“I’m fine.” Lars states simply, confident enough Eddie is not gonna check him over for injuries yet. He has a grouchy healer for that purpose. “I think this was all from the elk.” 

“We’re still seein’ Kill Master after this.” 

“After I mark down this.” Lars moves to pick up one of the pens Eddie crafted out of scraps, the roadie waves him off. He steps over to “You’re literally blood man, let me put it on the map.” Lars talks about his path and Eddie is quick to jot down the specific spot, then take some loose notes.

“Holes in the roof, explains why we haven’t seen much of whatever this is.” The roadie mused, making a mark on the map for that. “Real sneaky of this weird ass thing.”

\---

Lita only grows more agitated the longer Ironheade stays. The place is empty on the surface that should be enough, shouldn’t it? She has hunched in her room for the past two days and only made herself more hungry in the process. Lita knows from human experience she can go a few days without a meal. Demon experience is still untested waters. 

“Hrhhn.” She turns over in her bed draping an arm over her face, listening distantly to the rumblings of the camp outside. She closes her eyes and exhales. Some of the agitation drops off slowly but surely. 

She wants to pretend. Maybe just for… 

The gurgling of her stomach makes her wince, the hunger pangs are apparently worse as a beast than as a woman. “Damn it all.” 

She forces herself up into a seated position, peering out of the textured glass window. She can make out the fact the sky is still too light for her to go out just yet. Beyond that she'd have to press against the glass to make out any detail. The blonde knows she doesn’t have much she can do until the sky has darkened enough to go prowling for a meal. 

She exhales, coaxing her fingers through her hair. She can already feel the haircut is uneven and choppier than usual. Giving herself a haircut with her halberd hadn’t been… the best. The only positive lay in the fact she didn’t cut herself in the process.

Her hand drifts across her neck, her shoulders taking in smaller details. Her flesh has stretched and shifted, been manipulated into something else. If it had continued, what would she even be? 

She touches her shoulder, disgust briefly pooling in her gut as she stares at the bedding. She shoots the demonic skull on the dresser a dirty look. 

He had a fondness for biting at her neck once or twice, and she still feels the festering disgust from it. Sharing a bed with the horrible demon had been the only ploy she nearly broke a few times out of pure revulsion. The only positive thing was the fact demons did not breed in the same way humans did. He merely kept her in the same room to lord over her. To boast about his control over her, whilst admiring his own handiwork. He wanted his greatest creation close at hand. 

His touch felt like stains spreading across her skin, the true taint that came with this horrendous faction. 

She laid back, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. “I will live, so no one else will have this happen to them.” She whispers to herself, “No more.” 

Her hunger is eclipsed by discomfort for the time being.


	4. When you're cursed you're always hopin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Brutalhearts666 for beta-ing this chapter!

“So far, the map is helping us more than anything else.” Ophelia exhales lowly back, she’s tucked a pen behind her ear, gaze drawn to the paper spread out before them. She leans forward over it, tracing a finger along a pathway. “It just feels like we’re walking circles now. With this, we should be able to know which circles we're in, at least.”

“This place is fuckin’ huge.” Eddie dug the butt of his palm into his forehead, tiredly looking over the map himself. “Did we mark off the locked parts?”

“Here and here.” Lars interjects, tapping carefully at the parchment with his finger. “We could easily knock down this door. From what I could see in the window over the door, it seems weaponry is stowed there.”

Eddie snorts a little, “He tried climbing through the window, butttt-“

“It seems-“ Lars coughs into his hand awkwardly turning red, “I’ve indulged far too much these past few months.” His hand touches his gut self consciously. “Maybe I should-“

“No push-ups.” Ophelia states easily back not going to entertain the thought, lips pulling into an amused smile. “You’re fine.”

Lars is still patting his stomach uncertainly, frowning down at it. “Really, if you give me some time, I could get through that window.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, lightly elbowing the other man. “Lars. Only a baby could fit through that window, and I ain’t got time to make a baby, or find a baby, and then train it for a stealth mission.”

“This is the strangest digression you’ve had this week and you're a man of strange digressions.” Ophelia muses directly at Eddie, before she arches a brow back at the two. “Can we pick up on the actual topic, or are we going to keep talking about Lars’ fine form?”

“Yes, yes- of course.” Lars stands up a bit straighter, smiling slightly now. A flush spreads across his cheeks. “On topic.”

The three discuss strategy for a while longer before a walkie-talkie crackles to life. Lars is quick to grab them, talking brightly to the Fire Baron team that managed to get further than anyone else, thus far. The Fire Barons provide a quicker way through the palace as well as their own lights, which frees up more of the gear for others to use.

——

With Ironheade still exploring, still invading the palace, Lita finds herself operating on a different schedule than she likes. She only emerges at night, hunting and eating quickly, as soon as she gets inside. It ends up becoming sloppier the longer the _humans_ \- no, Ironheade stay. She wants to be bitter, but is too tired to manage as much.

Lita hates when she catches herself calling them humans in her mind. It happens in moments of irritation. She catches it when she’s hunched low on a rafter, tearing into an animal’s underbelly with her teeth. She winces, not at the squelch of blood or bones she bites through, but the guilt pooling in her gut. When did she start distancing herself from Ironheade?

She ruminates over the feeling, startled when a woman shrieks under her. It takes the blonde a moment to realize she had lost some of her shredded meat and it hit the ground, raining down on someone walking below. Lita gives a quiet, “Whoops.” She shoves her meal haphazardly into her secondary jaw, before taking off as the woman below her screams in horror. Her beam of light never exactly landing on Lita’s position, but seeing her movement. The movements just earn more panicky screams.

Lita makes quick work getting further into the palace, trying to find a quiet corner to eat. She heads to the library hoping for some privacy.

“Why are they patrolling at night?” She mutters angrily, blood stained teeth curling into an annoyed grimace. She hunches low, dragging the dead half-eaten animal along, unintentionally dripping on anyone below. She doesn’t notice at first, well, until the next yell of surprise. Then she hurries forward. Lita hisses unhappily at the occasional shriek or shouts below. The fact Ironheade has gotten this deep this quickly makes her curse lowly as she comes to a stop.

She straightens up, untying the ties of her top, letting her skin peel back and open. Lita drops the animal inside of her secondary jaw snapping it shut to avoid any more problems. She pats her face back in place impatiently before making her way through the halls, not losing any more of her meal in the process. At best blood seeps from the seams on her side, but is sucked in greedily by her guts.

She heads back to her bedroom, taking time to wash herself off. The warm water helps slowly draw the tension out of her body. She toys with the water tap idly, trying to find a hotter setting. The only thing she likes about demons is their apparent magic water.

Some part of her almost wants to ask Eddie about it. He was always making things. He could make this as well. She swallows the old feeling back down, just focusing on washing the blood off of herself and not dripping everywhere. She crouches low, painfully low given her size and lets the water pour over her head. She can feel the water leaking out of the seams of her face, which makes her grumble idly. Once she feels clean she sits up, turning the knob off.

The blonde woman dries herself, tiredly drifting across the room. She drags a claw against the walls, listening to the sound as she debates with herself. If Ironheade has gotten this far, she needs to take care of something. She needs to be sure they don’t stumble into something deadly or something revealing. Lita exhales, still torn as she walked around the room for a lap or two. When she walks by the dresser she makes a point to flip off Doviculus’ skull, moving back towards the bed to just lay down finally.

Ironheade seems only more stubbornly intent within the next few days, searching and looking in a way that makes Lita annoyed. Her meals are becoming a mess of scaring unsuspecting Razor Girls or Headbangers who had the poor luck of doing a night patrol.

By the end of the week, she’s decided on what she wants. She needs to close the labs from prying eyes. Ironheade will find nothing and finally leave then. They will leave and she will finally be alone.

——

The last room she goes to seal, is one she never wanted to see again. The room she put off even with the encroach of possible enemies. The Coil laboratories are vast, horrifying as she expects them to be. The laboratories lay deep within the palace, far enough she’s sure Ironheade has yet to even find it. Even as they explore further, the labs are an oddity to discover.

Seeing the white walls leave Lita’s heart racing and breath short. An edge of panic lay under her skin, ready to burst out. This is the first time she’s bothered coming back here. Not since she was lead out, hand in hand by Doviculus himself. She had never bothered to look back, either out of fear or denial.

Standing on her own two feet, taking in the lab feels surreal, like she’s in a nightmare. Every other test subject is dead where they lay. Human, beast and beyond starved here, or were killed by the coil when she cut the head of their operations off. The room reeks, but she manages to ignore it. The smell of rot isn't a new smell to her at this point. Her own flesh had fallen off more than once during her own experiments.

Her table is closest to the main entry. Lita drifts over, clawed hand drifting across the smooth table. The manacles and chains have been hidden within the table itself. The blonde reaches out to open the drawer by pulling on the handle jutting out, mildly surprised to find it unlocked.

Inside of the table’s cabinet is deeper than she expects. Chains, manacles, vices and the like all lay within. She recognizes them, regrettably. The bondage range in size drastically, all carefully organized on the inside of the cabinet. The smaller ones almost seem comically small to her now. Yet all of them had bitten into her skin and enabled her change.

She finds scrolls next, all stacked together neatly. She hesitates before reaching out to pick up a scroll, unrolling it.

Lita isn’t sure what she expected to find, but its just as horrible as she expects. The scroll unrolls into a variety of schematics on what they planned to do to her. What was done to her. Everything was planned out so precisely and uniform. Different demons sign off on duties done, on what they planned to do. The last unchecked task was ‘re-education’. The word alone makes her bristle.

She is spoken of as Brood Mother when a title is needed, when it isn’t she’s called ‘Subject 666’. Drawings of her in various states are presented plainly. The one proposed image of her as merely a torso leaves Lita feeling sick to her stomach. Another image is merely her flesh and organs spread across wires. To them, she was a womb at best. Nothing but a means of production.

She crumples the page in her hand, shredding it now. Paper scraps litter the floor underfoot as she shakes with anger.

She rips up every scroll she gets her hands on, leaving more shredded paper in her wake.

The blonde woman snarls, moving to upend the table itself, managing to uproot it from the floor and throwing it with all her strength against a wall. The wall cracks from the collision as the table breaks into debris. She upends another table, and another. Regardless if a body lay upon it or not, she throws it. She yanks cupboards from the walls, smashing them against the tiles, screaming as she ruins everything the Coil holds dear. Cupboards are thrown as well, smashing into the weakened wall. She knocks vials off of walls, shreds scrolls stored away on counters, she makes a point to break everything.

By the time she runs out of things to throw, the wall has holes in it and she’s breathing raggedly. She crumples to her knees, staring at the destroyed room. The once orderly lab looks like a hurricane has blasted its way through it. Nothing lay untouched. Broken glass littering the floor glitters under the magic lights overhead. Blood pools from dead experiments against the far wall, where they've been crushed by the force of her throw alone. Or another table colliding into their fallen forms.

She covers her face, breathing unevenly. “I’m not a monster.” Her lips quiver as tears finally rise to the surface, “I’m not a monster.”

“I’m me.” Her voice comes out small and weak as she curls into herself. She presses her hands flat against the tiled floor, trying to breathe. “I’m just me.” All she can do is cry, wet, messy, ugly tears. She wants to believe desperately, she wants to feel like herself again.

She was warped into something repulsive. She barely is Lita Halford any longer. All she is; hatred wrapped in stolen mutated skin. The thought only made her sobbing worse. She loses time to the grief, cradling her face in her hands. She wants so much, but knows she doesn't deserve any of it anymore. Not like this. Her own blood has attacked Ironheade, her own body used against her. She produced monsters on command. Terrible creatures who shouldn't have existed in the first place.

A man’s startled gasp breaks Lita from her reprieve, she jerks up into a seated position and looks back behind herself at the entry of the lab. Her eyes are wet with tears and she makes eye contact with the one person she missed the most.

Lars. He stands in the doorway, clutching at the small light he had on hand. His mouth opens and closes in shock.

“L-Lars!” She chokes out, chest tight as she staggers up, suddenly feeling so small. He stares at her, confused, frightened, _disgusted_. His hand drops to his blade’s hilt. 

Seeing that look on his face feels like a dagger in her chest, more so than his shift to his weapon. She stumbles, before running away from him. She uses an upended table to throw herself up into the ceiling in a flurry of panic. She disappears into the shadows, pushing herself between the cold close quarters of the building's innards.

“Lita!” He calls her again, and again, voice growing distant.

She doesn’t stop running until she’s in the highest tower. So high up she can’t hear the thrum of humanity below. She curls into the cold rafters, breathing in the scent of wood and dust. She cries until she finally falls asleep. Her body tightly curled into a ball on a crossbeam.

—— 

Lita only rouses when the sunlight grows warm enough to make her uncomfortable and the air stuffy. Lita groans softly, uncurling herself, head feeling heavy.

She doesn’t dare to sit up, simply slowly starting to scale downwards. Claws raking against wood and feet able to find decent enough purchase, she doesn’t worry. She finds herself drifting between rafters, trying not to dwell on what happened the night before. She doesn't want to remember Lars' expression. She doesn't want to think about anything. The worst part is she knows she has to deal with it.

She’s not sure how she’s going to handle this. At best she drifts to her room, listening for people as she goes. Lita wants to just crawl into bed and sleep.

She can hear a fight in the distance. An argument brewing loudly in the throne room.

She thinks about the disgust on Lars’ face. She can picture the same hatred he had for Lionwhyte or Doviculus aimed at her.

If they want a monster, she could give them one.

They could kill her and put her out of her misery. She shakes the thought away as quickly as it comes. She can do that well enough herself. A few false starts had shown her, she could open her chest, slide a hand in and squeeze her heart hard enough to possibly kill herself. Yet, every time she backed off, unable to let go of life. She'd break away at the last moment gasping, heart beating hard and desperate, her breath short and sharp.

She wants to live.

But she can’t live with them. She couldn’t pretend things would be the same anymore.

Lita finds herself drifting towards the argument, hesitant but wanting to know the plans. She perches on rafters just out of the room, incase they check the ceiling.

“Lars, it isn’t Lita! I dunno what the fuck you saw, but- it’s probably some crazy demon bullshit!”

“Edward, I… I know my sister. I know her anywhere.” Lars’ voice, his belief made the blonde woman sink into herself. She wanted him to believe, but- he shouldn’t be near her. She shrunk back, heart skittering against her ribs, colliding against her inner teeth.

Eddie’s intent on his point, volume raising as Lita listened. “You’re delusional, man. You’ve seen what Doviculus does. I wouldn’t put it past him to just taunt you like that.”

“If it is a taunt, where is he?” Ophelia cuts in sharply, her voice louder than Eddie’s in the heat of the argument. “If this was a trap, it would have been sprung sooner. Doviculus isn’t that patient.”

“He’s been emperor how long? How the fuck else would he bait a trap?” Eddie sighed loudly enough Lita could picture the annoyance on his face. “Lars, he knows you lived. How else would he try to rub salt into the wound? He’d use your sister against you.”

“But _where_ is he, Eddie?” Ophelia wasn’t letting go of that, “He’s a smug bastard. Every time we saw him, he had to monologue and be cocky about our chances. He wouldn’t let us wander around his home for nearly two weeks without something worse happening than blood pouring on people in halls.”

Eddie gave a frustrated sound, “We can’t _just_ trust this!”

Lita finds only mild humor in the fact she would be on Eddie’s side, if she was there with them. A demon was always a demon. You do not trust a demon. She couldn’t be trusted around humans.

She backed off, half afraid to hear the end of the argument. She makes it to her room, sliding down the rafters, landing on the floor near her bed. The paranoia of being found leads her to picking up the dresser and placing it in front of the door. Any loose furniture is added there to ensure it stays closed.

She washes herself, falling into her usual ritual out of habit more than anything else. She cries, blood dribbling down her cheeks as she grieves quietly.


	5. Proud of and disgusted by her

Lita sleeps, Lita sleeps for a long enough time she wakes up hungry and sore. She exhales weakly, lashes fluttering as she tries to piece together where she is. 

Her dreams did little to make things concrete. She had dreamt of the sea lapping at the shore, and Lars’ low laughter in the background as he dragged her towards a party. Their feet kicking up sand as they’re pulled into Ironheade’s beach party. Eddie and Ophelia welcome them with their own smiles, pulling them into thrush of people. She can almost smell the salt in the air if she lets her herself relax enough. 

She drags her clawed fingers through her hair. 

She realizes as time passes over her, that she’s in a bed much too small for her in a dark room, the curtain is drawn tightly over the only window. Light seeps from under it, leaving a strip along the edge of the bed. 

As she wakes up further she remembers Lars’ reaction. She wraps her arms protectively around herself. It solidifies her worst fears. 

Thinking of Eddie’s reaction only makes her twist uncomfortably where she lay. Even with Ophelia arguing seemingly in her favor, she wouldn’t fault the other woman for siding with Eddie eventually. Eddie Riggs was a convincing man. He earned their trust so easily and proved himself over again, and again. Anyone would side with him. Ophelia would easily go with him given the right words. She and Lita weren’t close, not like when they were children. Distrust bled over everything and stained what was once there. 

“I always tried to get rid of her, it seems it’s her chance to return the favor.” She mused aloud, dragging a pillow over her head tiredly. “It’s… only fair.” 

She blinks drowsily, half tempted to go back to sleep. She could wait them out. 

At least, she hopes so. She is a monster who laid in wait once before, she could do it again. 

She manages to drift off to sleep again, head feeling cottony and heavy. When she wakes it’s only worse and her body is hungry. She pushes herself out of bed to drink from the water faucet in the wall. She cups her hands under the water, drinking slowly. Until her head feels less like it’ll pop off of her shoulders and roll away. 

The looseness of her skin seams make water dribble out, until she runs her fingers along it to seal everything properly. Lita knows that alone is a signifier she needs to eat sooner. Her time alone in the coil palace has taught her some minor things about this new body. 

She forces herself to dress, drinking water between pieces of clothing. Water in her belly is better than nothing, in the moment. She forces herself up onto the walls, up to the rafters. Lita realizes her movements are clumsy and uncoordinated. An edge of panic weighs on her as she wonders just _how_ long she slept. 

She’s on her way across the familiar wood work before she sees a small animal, a bird of some kind perched there. The animal clearly had gotten lost in the building. It sings. The tune is unfamiliar, but gentle. Lita almost wants to bypass it, but the sluggish way her body moves is enough to make her take the chance. 

She hesitates before she snaps her claws out, grabbing it, silencing it. The animal struggles, losing feathers in the process. 

“Sorry.” She mutters with only some guilt as she opens her second jaw. “Sorry.” She repeats as the bird pecks at her fingers before she snaps it inside of her second jaw. The snap is messier than it should be, splashing some blood onto the wooden beam and tiled floors below. She doesn’t taste it, but the relief of any kind of meal is almost instant. 

“What happened to that… bird?” A man’s voice makes Lita go still, shoulders tensing. She drags a clawed hand down her face in irritation. The blonde woman is realizing very quickly she did not check what time of day it was.

“Bird?” The woman with him sounds confused, “Oh- that dumb bird that flew in? Huh, I dunno. Probably flew away.”

“Makes sense.” The two are about to leave when Lita realizes they’re going to walk over the feathers and blood. She pushes herself forward swearing internally at her luck as she tries to find the nearest exit. 

She shoves her way through a loose part of the roof, looking out over the dusky sky. She moves up and out, patting the roof back in place to avoid someone else spotting the hole. The air is already cooling and Lita knows Ironheade will likely be having their own meals soon.

A good time to hunt if any. It’s dark by the time she returns, full and heavy from a few catches of the night before she lurches back inside. When she sleeps this time, she’ll rest easily. 

——

She does not rest easily. Her mind cannot let her rest. She dreams of ghostly hands pressing against her body, pushing apart her thighs, clawed fingers raking across her cheek, drawing blood. She dreams of hands everywhere on her body, pulling her to pieces and reassembling her. Fingers forced into her mouth, fingers forced into a hole gouged into her throat. 

She dreams of reaching out to touch Doviculus. 

_She runs her her fingers along the side of his face, dipping down to brush her lips against his bare skin. Giddiness builds in her chest as Doviculus stirred under her attentions. She doesn’t rush it, taking her time to lull him awake. He likes to be teased, coaxed and taunted. She knows him at this point and she hates herself for it._

_He looks more amused than annoyed at being awakened. “What a pleasant sight to awaken to.” She’s donning his regalia, hair swept back in a tight bun, leather gown squeezing her too tightly. A sight she knows pleases Doviculus. His Nuns dress her every morning, force her into what Doviculus wants to see. An image of obedience._

_An image he threatens to show her brother._

_An image Lars will never see._

_The words feel like poison on her lips, but she still speaks them. She kisses his tusks teasingly, leaning over him now. “Mhm, breed me.” She brings his hand against her stomach. “I feel so empty without your spawn.”_

_Doviculus doesn’t bother to sit up, simply reaching out to squeeze her breast. “You will be busy soon enough, but I suppose I could entertain you.” His hands drifts across her waist, her hips, squeezing them firmly. “This body looks bare when you are not heavy with brood. A true pity for a beauty such as yourself.”_

_She forces herself to make a breath sound, leaning into him, one hand cupping his face. Doviculus has taken interest in human kissing, testing it against her whether she liked it or not. Kissing him feels like kissing a Razorboar._

_The other hand finds the handle of her halberd, much smaller than last she held it. She feels the grooves of wood under her finger tips._

She wakes up to a strange rattling at her door.

——

Lars clicks off the walkie-talkie as he strides deeper into the palace. He knows Eddie will be frustrated, but, just this once Lars wants to make his own plan. He could stand there and hear all of Eddie’s counter arguments for hours and not be swayed. 

Seeing whatever wore her skin, whatever was possibly his sister, had thrown everything Lars believed into the air. He has to know if it is Lita. He wants some closure. After so long, he wants to know if his sister did survive. The wound needs to finally heal. 

Doviculus always played coy when she came up, laughing at the rage on Lars face. The blonde man remembered crossing blades with the demon, demanding to know. His words had nearly been lost in the battle waging around them, but Doviculus heard. 

_Doviculus’ smirk widened, “She’s serving a much greater purpose now, boy. Something I’m sure you’ll never understand, even with your little game of rebellion.” He pushed Lars back effortlessly, laughing brightly as Lars lost his footing, bumbling back into the familiar form of Eddie. The roadie kept him steady as the demon twirled his weapon, unafraid of the two humans._

_Doviculus’ voice carried so easily over the tumulus sounds of war, smug and pleased with himself in a way that left Lars wanting to scream.“I wouldn’t worry your poor empty head over her. She’s doing very well under my care. All that petty hatred is making something truly beautiful.”_

_“You monster!” Lars hissed, struggling against Eddie’s hold as Doviculus unfurled his wings. Lars strained against Eddie’s hands, screaming at the sky, head tipped back wanting Doviculus to hear every word. “Come back here! Fight me, you coward!”_

His hand clenches into a fist as he thinks over the memory. “Is this… the purpose she served? Made into one of his warriors?” He mutters lowly to himself. If so, she should have attacked him. The opportunity was there. He had been alone, weapon sheathed. 

Yet… 

She panicked and ran away. 

She looked like the little girl who broke their father’s sword, eyes wide with horror and guilt. The girl who ran away from him, hiding in a bush, fearful of his reaction. The girl who he joined in the bush, draping an arm around her shoulder to hug her close. 

Lars traces his fingers along the scar on his chest, wondering just what kind of scars his sister would be bearing now. 

He lets his mind wander and drift as he walks. Eventually he finds a grand doorway, its intricate carvings and embellishments making Lars pause his walk. The door speaks of importance, speaks of status. 

He can’t read the script written into the door itself. He can only guess it must be fairly important with all pomp surrounding it. Lars steps forward, curiously jiggling the handle. 

Like only two other doors, this one was locked. After seeing Lita in that white room, he can only guess she’s been locking specific rooms. She could be inside. The possibility is what pushes him forward. 

He rattled the handle again, more insistently. “Lita!”

The silence that follows his call only makes anxiety build higher in his lungs. The fear of being wrong, of possibly missing her weighs heavily over the blonde man. 

“Lita!” He continues rattling the handle. “Wake up!” The familiar phrase falls out of his mouth before he can catch it. More used to pestering his sister awake than anything else. 

He hears an annoyed grunt from the other side. Rustling of fabric is followed by a sleepy drowsing voice. “Lars, m’tired.” 

“It’s time to get up little sister!” If this is her, she’ll know. She’ll say the right things. She’ll know, she’ll have to. A creature wouldn’t know the unspoken familiarity that comes with growing up with someone. “We have a rebellion to run!” 

“Fuck off.” The sound of something hitting the door only makes Lars’ lips curl into a smile. “Too early for this. Go bother Ophelia awake for once. Rebellion can wait.” He hears something else smack the door. He could make out idle grumbling and her flopping over. 

He could almost cry. “Lita… please.” He leans against the doorway. “Please, it’s time to get up.”

“Lars.” Her voice is drowsy, but not a sleep heavy. Trepidation weighs upon it. “Lars…” 

He can hear the bed creak as she rises from it, hear the shuffle of her growing closer. Her voice is at the door. “You shouldn’t be here.” 

“You’ve said something similar before, sister. Yet, I persist.” He offers with a low laugh. He leans his cheek against the door, his smile wide enough to hurt his cheeks. “Titans above, you’re _alive_.” 

“Alive is… a strong word.” She breathes softly back, low enough he almost doesn’t catch it. “I’m here, but, you shouldn’t be.” 

“Lita, if you’re here, I’m going to be here, it’s rather simple that way.” He’s not about to leave now. 

The blonde woman gives an annoyed sigh. “I’m not human anymore. Your cause is to free humanity.” He can guess from the light tapping, she’s anxiously tapping a finger against the wall. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be… inspiring people, freeing them. Not in the demon emperor’s palace.” 

“You belong at home, in Bladehenge.” He wants her home, he wants her safe, he wants to be sure she can be happy. His little sister deserves that more than anything else. 

He thinks back to when they had a tent wall between them, how they’d lean against the side each other’s tents to whisper secrets to one another before their parents made them go back to bed. He can almost picture the night sky and crickets in the background whilst they giggle to one another. 

“Lars. Your belief is touching, but foolish.” She’s quick to try and cut him down, to push him away. A tactic she could use on everyone _but_ him. Her words always cut deeply, leaving wounds worse than her blades. He knew his sister too well to back off. “Think… think just a bit more about this.” 

“You always called me an optimist, I feel it still sticks.” He clings to the hope this is real, that she’ll open the door and be Lita. The uncertainty, the slight fear lingers, but he ignores it. “Lita, what happened?” 

“Too much.” She admits uncertainly. The raw uncertainty is gone within her next breath. “Doviculus is dead. You don’t have to worry about his ilk any longer. I took care of it.” 

“Lita-?”

“I killed him myself. You never have to be afraid of him again.” He can hear her pushing away. He can picture her back straightening, steel settling in her spine, the veneer of disinterest raised as a protection against the world. “You can go home now. Go back to Bladehenge, celebrate the victory. You’ve earned it. Congratulations, Lars.” 

“Lita!” He presses more intently against the door. 

“You can forget about me, Lars. Just, forget about me.” Her voice is steel, hard and sharp. She wants him to leave. “Just let me rest. I’m tired.” 

He can’t leave. 

“Please. Just talk to me.” 

“I’m… what can I say? There is nothing to say.” 

“There is a lot to say. So much in fact I think I’m going to run out of words.” He knocks at the door stubbornly. Lita gives a shrill laugh, the sound makes Lars’ heart ache. “Lita, please. Open the door.”

Lita doesn’t answer again, even as he rattles the door knob harder. There is only silence.

——

The cross beams smell of dust and wood rot. 

The cross beams smell of blood. 

The cross beams creak as she tries to settle down. 

Her thumb brushes against the heart still beating in her ribs. She presses down hard enough she starts to see stars, limbs quaking against her own grip. 

She lets her hand fall away. 

She wants to live. 

She wants her brother. She wants her family back. 

Even if she doesn’t deserve it. 

—— 

“Lars?” 

There is only silence. 

Lita sinks against the furniture blocking the door, staring at her hands. “Come back.” 

She rests her forehead against her knees. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut. “Please.” 

\----

Walking down the hallways feel wrong. She wraps her arms around herself. Her holstered halberd bobbles against her back as she walks, its so small now, but she needs it. 

The floor is cold against her feet, sending a chill up her spine. She had become so at home in the rafters, she’s become unused to the chill of the tiles and stone that made up most of the palace. Even with the daylight pouring through the few windows in the hallways, the chill persists. 

But she knows every turn, every twist of this place, even if its from a higher vantage point. The bright lights at the end of the hallway is new and frightening. She had only ever seen them from above with no threat of being seen. 

“What am I doing?” She mutters to herself, sucking in a breath before continuing forward. The sunshine is almost a relief to see as she steps over the threshold of the hallway, into the throne room. The room is quiet just this once. Lars, Eddie, & Ophelia talk tersely amongst themselves over a map. 

“Lars.” 

He looks up at her. 

They hold each others gazes. Eddie and Ophelia rear back in panic and shock. 

“Lita.” He laughs gently back, his gaze on her face. He steps away from the map, expression warm. Warm enough Lita wants to believe. She wants to be wrapped up safely in the familiarity of what she missed. “Little sister.” 

Lita is on the edge of making a comment about not being so little anymore when Eddie steps forward. Distrust written so clearly across his face. “Uh, no way. Don’t get any fuckin’ closer.”


	6. Brass knife sinks into my shoulder

“Look, you weird demon fuck.” Eddie stomps forward, putting himself between Lars and Lita. The invasion of her space makes Lita automatically step back without her even realizing it. Her skin crawls at someone being that close to her without permission. Eddie narrows his eyes, pointing up at her as he speaks. “I don’t know what your game is, but this shit isn’t funny.” 

Lita stands a littler taller, only realizing in that moment everyone is… much shorter than she actively remembers them being. From above the difference hadn’t been that noticeable. Now the trio of Ironheade leaders stand at her knee height. “Eddie. I’m not- pretending. This isn’t a game.” 

“Sure feels like one. Everythin’ has been real convenient.” He spreads his arms wide at their surroundings, a distrustful sneer settling on his face. “Nothing around here but corpses, _demon_ corpses at that, not a living soul here, but _you_. The one person our leader would be searchin’ for. Doviculus is a no show, just little ole you prancin’ up to us.” 

Lita sucks a short breath in. Torn between offended or stung by it all. She had heard Eddie call it a trap before, but having it thrown into her face hurts. “Eddie, I’m not lying-“ The roadie does not let her finish. 

“You’re not Lita.” He jabs her in the stomach, given he couldn’t reach her chest. The jab makes her skin prickle in discomfort. If she wasn’t holding her ground intentionally she would have backed off again. “Hell no. I am not trustin’ this crap.” 

“Edward!” Lars grabs the other man’s hand, pulling it away. He holds Eddie’s hand firmly in his own, frowning tersely at the other man. “Please, let her speak at least.” 

“Why the fuck should I?” He doesn’t break away from Lars’ hold, waving his free hand in the air unhappily. Only for it to be caught by Ophelia as she comes around the other side. Her voice is gentle as she speaks, catching his attention easily. “Eddie.” 

Ophelia squeezes his hand, not giving Eddie a chance to protest. “Listen. Just let her talk.” 

Eddie opens his mouth, intent to argue but gets a look from the other two rebellion leaders. He huffs disapprovingly. “Fine.” 

Lita eyes the trio uncertainly, feeling more than a little out of the loop. The blonde woman feels at loss of what to say. Eddie just glowers at her, impatient and unhappy with the situation. “Say somethin’ at least.” 

The mutual scolding is almost immediate this time. “Eddie!” “Edward!” 

Eddie wrinkles his nose, his lips pulling into an annoyed line. He doesn’t try to speak again for the time being. It leaves the air empty and open to Lita.

“I…” She tucks some loose hair behind her ear awkwardly. Suddenly everything is very overwhelming. “I am me.” 

She pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration. That was not what exactly she wanted to say. She was not Lars’ levels of well spoken. “This isn’t planned, I- if Doviculus had his way, he would be very much alive and I would not be standing here.” Lita clenches a fist against her chest, trying to keep her breath steady. 

“So, he is dead?” Ophelia questioned, “Where is his body?” 

“Which piece of him?” Lita questions in turn, some semblance of humor rising to the surface at the thought of how many pieces the demon emperor is in now. “You’ll have to specify given I’ve pulled him apart at this point.” 

Ophelia gives a low laugh at that, shaking her head. “Somehow that seems about right.”

“I did not intend to let him live, not if… Lars was gone.” Her gaze drifts to her brother. She takes the moment to study his face, comforting herself with seeing life in those eyes. “I thought he killed you.” She toys with a wire growing from her arm uncertainly. “He regularly reminded me of your death whenever he could.” 

Her anxiety made the blonde man exhale slowly, Lars reaches out with his free hand to touch Lita’s arm gently. The gesture was one meant in comfort, that much is why Lita doesn’t pull away. “I always demanded straight answers and got very little in return.” 

“Demons lie, what’s new?” Eddie grumped, only to be elbowed by Ophelia into silence. Lita pretends she doesn’t hear the low hushed scolding from the brunette to the roadie.

“He liked to play elusive games. It ended up being his undoing.” Lars states, more loudly than Eddie to try and make things go a bit more smoothly. “I’m proud of you sister.” He pats her arm again, a bit more awkwardly now. He isn’t sure what to do with his hands. Lita can’t blame him, things are… drastically different now. 

“Are we not gonna ask what-“ Eddie is more firmly elbowed for his words. Even Lita has to wince at the way Ophelia wields that elbow. If Eddie doesn’t get mildly bruised from that later, it would be a true shock. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to come back to Bladehenge.” Lars states, trying to talk over the mess unfolding behind him. 

Lita opens and closes her mouth. “I… can’t go back.” Some part her wants to, but after everything? The most she wanted was to see Lars for herself, to prove to herself he was alive. To speak to him one on one. “I don’t belong.” She motions at herself wordlessly. All three of them are quiet for just a moment before Lars finally tries to speak.

“I’m sure people will be shocked, but-“ 

“Shocked is, a bit of an understatement. You can see what I am.” Lita states, cutting her brother off. “I wanted to see you, Ophelia, and Eddie.” Her admission only softens Eddie vaguely before he’s back to being suspicious. 

Lita spares the doorways, leading out of the throne room and into entryway, an uncertain glance. She realizes how exposed she really is and takes a step back. 

“Lita.” Lars catches her hand in his own, stalling her from leaving. “Can we talk about this?” 

“Not here.” She’s already starting to feel antsy being so out like this. Being so exposed is strange. 

“Why not here?” Eddie questions, apparently unwilling to go unheard. He wrestles away from Ophelia to speak more loudly. “No way is Lars leavin’-“ 

“I’ll go with you, somewhere quieter.” Lars cuts in, shooting Eddie a dirty look. A look that Lita can tell will lead an incredibly tense conversation later on.

“Meet me where we last spoke, when the moon is high.” Lita finally reaches out, touching her brother’s shoulder. Her touch is overly careful, half afraid she’ll hurt Lars. “Please.” 

“Of course.” He isn’t relaxed under her touch, but the trust in his eyes makes Lita feel too many things all at once. She withdraws her hand, nodding almost awkwardly before stalking back down the hall. Once she’s sure she’s out of line of sight she jumps up into the rafters. 

\---

Lita intends on hiding the rest of the day after she feasts. She wants to huddle away before she eventually has a serious conversation with her brother. Only the sound of something moving through the darkened hallways catches her attention when she attempts to make her way back towards her room after she finishes eating. 

The blonde pauses where she’s crouched on a rafter, half wondering if it's more Ironheade warriors. She trails after the sound, staying light and quiet. Speaking to her brother was risky enough, she isn’t about to reveal herself to anyone else. 

It feels like what is left of her heart has jumped into her throat as she catches sight of what lurks below. Her skin crawls and she feels herself stiffen. 

One of Doviculus’ experiments had escaped. 

Her claws tighten around the beam of the rafter under her, claws digging into wood. _She_ had freed it. In her childish break down, she had let it loose. 

The creature walks on stolen limbs, jumbles of other bodies, man, beast, and demon roughly sewn together on what was once likely a simple Tollusk with its face peeled away and replaced with remnants of human and animal faces roughly sewn together. Too many eyes, too many noses protruding at strange angles. A low hanging jaw that can’t quiet close lined with human and animal teeth. Its many eyes blink in an unfocused manner, barely able to keep its gaze aimed in one direction for all that long. The beast’s jaws flap against one of its legs with a wet sound that makes Lita’s teeth set on edge. 

It looks likes any abomination of The Coil. A disgusting creature that shouldn’t live. 

Her breath shakes in her chest. She can feel the edges of her face slip and loosen. Her own teeth grind together inside of her as she tenses up. 

She curses herself for leaving her Halberd behind, before moving to keep up with the creature. She can’t lose it, not _now_. The thought of the creature hurting anyone in Ironheade leaves a sour taste in the back of her throat. Her brother is barely arrived, barely accepted her- 

It stops at the end of a hall, snuffling around. Lita sucks in a breath, before settling low on her haunches. She springs forward, tackling it with her fully body weight. The creature screams in a human voice. 

She digs her claws into its eyes, dragging them through the delicate wet meat. As it screams, she realizes.

It screams in _her_ voice. 

Hearing her own voice warbling in pain knocks the breath out of Lita, enough that the monstrosity squirms out of her grasp. The beast whips around, snapping its many jaws at her. It bites down on her arm, shredding already tattered skin. It breaks open one of the tubes protruding from her arm. Lita isn’t quite sure what sprays out of it. A thick almost syrupy black and red liquid sprays onto the beast that attacks her. 

The beast recoils, whining openly as it stumbles away. Lita realizes after a moment her blood is making the creatures flesh sizzle. 

“Why?” It warbles at Lita in her own voice. Many accusing eyes turn towards her, the vacantness from before gone.  
w̡̢̻̙̭̘̝͂̌͛̇̉́̀H̯͉̼̫̟͆̿̎̿̕͝ŷ̧̢̡̱̜̮̟͓̖͊̉͐͊̕͜͝?̨̩̺̜̞̹̹̱̠̐͒̌͂͟͠͝  
.Lita chokes, stumbling back as she clutches at her arm. Her eyes wide and horrified as the creature screams at her. All she can do is lash out with her claws. 

“Stop! Stop it!” Panic beats like a drum against her chest. She needs to make it _stop_. She smashes her hands down against it, more of her blood splashing outwards onto the beasts skin. It returns the attack, but the pain doesn’t register, Lita can only feel the rush of panic filling her head.

 

.  
.  
H̪͔͚͎̠͛̃̃͊̋̆̈̄̈̕a̸͎̳͖̯̳̰̥̿̈́̓̌̈́̍ͅv̵̺͉͈̗̪̯̯̩̅̑̍̐̀̈́͟͡ë̡̧̡̟͚̺̘́̆̃̎͗̈́̄ň̵̛̬̳͙͖͍̝̝̞̆͋'̰̞̙͈̼̟͇̪̅̿̔͗̃t͎͕̺͈̦̯̾͋͐͟͟͡͠ y̸̢̪̹̻̗̤̓̔̒̊̔̒̄̓̕͡ò̴̥͕͕̱̌̓͂̃͢͜͡͠ų̵̪͕̭͍͙͎̦̄̓̑̓͘ d̵̛̛͔̙̩̙̈̅͊͌͘͢͟o̷̮͚̯͒̈̾̈́̋̍̉͘͘͟͢n̵̨̛͍͕̦̗̄̿͊͒̊̃̋e̴̛̘̥͕̰̜̠̮̮̓͋̔̃̋ͅͅ ȩ͈͓̼̙̞̟̒̎͆̃̽̕͜͢͠͡n̡͔̯̩̩̼̳̐̾̿̏̆̈̆͂̚ǫ͚͈̲̤͍̜̜̓̌̀͆̏͋͐̚͟͟͠u̻̠̼͎͉̻͇̾̒̒͛̂̈̈͢g̨̗͖͔̟͌̋̍̿́̾͆h̛̟̥̖̲̠̻̹͈͊̂́̑̿̔̕?̢̧̳̩̻̪̮͖̆̒̓͊͊   
̶͎̖̭̣̗̦̲̭̩̔̒̄̎̽̃̈̃͘H̲̰̺̭̪͉̙͋͂͋̽̒͑͛̆͜͡͠a̢̡̖͕̘̮̣̻̫̺̋̌̍̿͛͠v̷̡̟̭̗̬͔̗̝̭̬̂́̄́̕͞e̵̯͖̲̳̫̦̜͛̀͛̂͋̂͑̕ͅņ̵̝̯̺̱͉͎̐̓͑͛͐͜'̭̫̯̖͖͖͈̹͔́̿͛͆̊͝ͅ y̲̺̲̭̪̌̔͊̐͗͂̓͜͟o̸͇̻͍̼̬͊̏̅̒͋͑͝ū̹̺̙̳̖͚̮̞͒͌̔̑̽̚ ĥ̵͍͈̭̞͇̳̏̌̉̐͐͐̊̎͜͜ͅŭ̸̡̨̧̘͔̱͌̌̄̃͊͘͢͠r̴̨̢̛̜̤̪̬̤̐̒̄̆̒t̸̖͈̜̫̣̭͈̻̠̪͆̄̏̓̋͑̚͝ m̸̨̖̙͓͍̟͈͊͋̇͆̇͆̍̅̂͢͜e̛͍̗̤̩͎̘̠̔̈́͛͜͟ ȩ̢̛̠̙͕͎̲͙͛̌͑̚͟͢n̛̪̩͇̩̖̆̃͐͛̋́͡ō̸̢̰̣̬̰̟̎͋̀͊͒͑͂͜ͅu͍̣̞̙̰̰̎͋̄̉̍͝ͅͅg͉̲͙̹̯̀͂̀̌̃͋͟͠͡h̶̡̬͎̯̗̠̑̊̏̔̉̇͒?̢͍̹̻̣̌̿̀̌͐͌̕͘͠  
͓̣͈͇̙̼̞̅̾̾͋̿̾͑ẉ̘͎̭̺̘̘̘͂͂̔̌͡ḧ̡̼̜͕͙́̒͛̍̍̅́͐̔̕y̢̙̤̬͕̰͕̣̖̹̓̅͛̆̋̇  
͈̞͇̣̞̈́̈͋̀̄̊̆̅͊͟͝ẘ̵̨̧͕̠̹̹͉͕̩͐̈́̽̂́̕ͅh̶̨̡̝̘̥̔̆̆̐͛̔͘͜y̶̞̱̬̭͍͔̿̌̀̊́̈́͝  
.

Lita chokes, stumbling back as she clutches at her arm. Her eyes wide and horrified as the creature screams at her. All she can do is lash out with her claws. Words she thought, words she whispered at night all spill from the beast’s mouth.

.  
.  
I̡͉̗̤̪̻̯̺̘̋̀̏̏͒̅̌̕'̛̞͙̲͚̒͒͌͊ͅḻ̛͎͎̣̩̜̲̈͋͊͐͌͟͠ļ̷̳͉͙̰̋̾̃̀̿͝ g͍͍̠͎̪͔͗̍̾̉͘ͅu̸̖͙̱͚͌͐̒̊̈͟͞ͅt̸̩̖̩̮͈̆̔̓̒̔̎͞͠͡͡ ÿ̷̧̘͎͇̯̻͇͚̿̆̾̈́͢ŏ̤̳̞̼͍̈́̍̀̽͋̒̃͗͘ŭ̸̞̝͎̹́͊͂̽̋͜,̨̻̲̘̓̅̃̓̾͘͢ I̤̞͚̭̳̭͉͈̍̉̔̚͞'̮̺̫̳͎̈́́̾̽͌̆̊̾͝l̞̖̬͖̦̜̊̀͛̃́̄̑̈l̶̫͔͉̦͚͙̔̿̈́͟͝ m͍̰̞͓̠̠͇̰͒̽̓́͂̃̈̽a̸̛̙̟̥͍̮̻͈̎̿̋̓̋̅͜͞k̡͓͔̪̼̿̎͆̌̓̚͡ͅe̱͇̠̪̙̫̩̘͋̃́̊͜ y͖̖̥̫̅͐̃̈́͂͛̀͜o̞͚̱͙̦͐͊͊̔̕ư̴̦̩̝̜̯̻̅̌̆̍̕͟͠ p̷̮͉̫̱̘͓̋͋̍̀̉̉͌͋̃͝ã̼̝͓͚̘͆̋̏̃̆͝͡͝ý̠̭̥̦̮̺͆̌̏̉͂̕͜  
̸̰̙̟͇̼̠̱͚̽̏́̿͋͆͞I̵̬͕̟̝͔͛̑͋͋̎̌͒ͅ'̵͎̳̭̞̻͉̌̄̔͛̒̄͢ͅl̵͉͇̫͈͚͕̟̜̠̩̀͆̀̍̍̆͌͌͘l̩͈͍̦͖͕͔̊̇̽͊͒͂̌̽̎ m̶̢̺̫͔̖͓̮̠̍͂̇͋͆́͜͜â͔̩̮̭͖̠͟͡͝͡ͅk̶̦͉̤͕̯͍̜̓̈͌̿̍̊͆͑͟ȩ̥̰͎̫͎̟̃̎̾͐̃͑͠͠͠ y̵̗͍̺̞̼̦̽̄͂͛̈́̀͢͡ͅͅǫ̱̖̯̺͐͒̄̇́̎͝͞u̵̡̩̟̼̝̔͊̊̈̉͌̏́͂ s̴̢̨̜͍̥̮͙͙̬̣̓̉͒̈̌û̖͈̘̯̜̥̗̮̻̆͋͑̊̂͜͞f̯̘̬̜͖̘̥̔̿̽̿͂̽͘ͅf̶̧̨̘͉̩̪̻͍̬̈́̉̍͆̔̅̉͗͜͞e̵̡̢̤͍͔̦͕͔͍̬͛̈́͆̉̕ŗ̸̹̺̜̱͖̦͗̏̍̈̆̌̒̊͒̎.̶̞̠̲̖̩̒̅̓̍̽͜  
̨͈̙̻̼͆̾̊͗̐̿͆̌Y̷̧̛͉͍̝̫̗͔̹͌͛̑̉̓̊̃͟͞ͅo̶͎̭̠͉̮̣̱̲̳͛̓̊̒̋̉̚̚û̴̪͖̺͗̉̿̓̓̚͟͡͝͞ͅ'̴̮͚̤͉͈̋̈́̓̐͂̚͝͞ͅľ̵̙̗͈̫͓̼̎͛̿̆̓͝l̩͍̥͍͆̎̋͂̂̀̏ͅ f̶̡̼̭̠̟͔̿͒̔̏́͂͡ë̷͔͓̦͉̗͙́̐̏̈́̅̿e̛̫͇̼͈͑̄̍͒͝ͅl̷̨̧̛̬̹̜͙͙̰̒̑̇̓̃ ş͔̣͔͚̠̹̍̅͊̃̈͂̿͋̚ö̮̘̺̥̜̬́͂͊̈̉͂̿͞ m͖̤̟͈̺̎̎͗̚͞ų̸̛̼̘̤̩̰͈͐̆͋̄̏̅͢ċ̸̣̲̰͈̗̰̊̐̓͊͒̄h̷̡̭̠͚̮͚̖͛̊̄͊̊͗͠ m̶̪͚̝̥̹̻̯͆̊̐̂̽̍͘ǫ̵̧̞̩̟̠͔̩̗͌͑̌͆͛̎̋͞͝ŗ̞̤̙̖͚̰̇́̅̅̋̇͗̚ę̦͇̱͍̥͆̆͆͐͠ t̛͎͈͔͔̥̄̾͆̆͜h̥̖̮̤̾̃̄͗͐ͅâ̢͈͉̣̙͎̍̋̌͐͛̓͆ń̛̤̥͚͇̳̫̻̌̂ I̡͎̙̜̬̳̙̅͂̈̚̚ ę̷̛̛̤̱̘̜͚̗̺̖͑̌̾̈̌͜͠v̗͚͓͙͍̦͒̔̔̿̽̅̚ę̴̖̯̲͖̥̩̘̮̰̓̔̈́̿͒͛̒̃̅ŕ̷̻̪̜̩͓̲̯̇̓͊̈́̽͐͜ h̷̢̧̤͎̘̻̄͋̂̀̚͜͝͞͡͝ą̵̝͓̫̌̑̆̄̏͜v̡̛̺̣͈̭͋̈́͑͂̌̍e̸̯̞̱̲̙̭̎̽̀̉̈́̾̑͌̃͘.̲͔̻̯͕̬̞̪̔̎͐̿̒̉̇͌͌͛  
.  
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“Stop! Stop it!” Panic beats like a drum against her chest. She needs to make it _stop_. She smashes her hands down against it, more of her blood splashing outwards onto the beasts skin. It just screams in pain. 

She loses track of lashing out, the panic beating loudly in her head she tears skin from the beasts body as it thrashes out of her grasp. Lita lashes out again, trying to claw out more of its eyes as it screams in her voice. It screams, its words drip with venom.   
.  
.  
H̡̺̙̳̬̥͎͛̅̌͛̋͂̃̋͢͟͠a̴͍̳̰̪̬̹͐̿̓̍͑͛͗̉v̻̰͇̺̤̄̽̍̎̈́̕͢ȩ̷̰̥̭͎̑̌̓̾̏͒̑͘̕͟͟ṇ̵̨̭̼̹͈̳͊̉̍̏̿̓'̜̟̝̻̦̠͎̘̍͂͊͑̏̏̃̿t̢̛̯̰̭̜̝̠͚̼̑͒͋̄̽͆̅͡͞ y̧͉̜̮͙̮͚̝̥̳͆̽͛́̐͋́̕ó͇̰̘͓̗̇̀͊͊̕͜͢͠u̴̼̳̘̓̉̔̐̔͟ͅ t̵̡̫̩̹͎̠̤͗̒̃͑̏̈́̿̆̕ā̜͓̙͓͕̈́̉̅͊k̴̢͕͎͚̈̿̄̈̉͢͝ȩ̵̢̠̟̜̜͎͊͆͒̊͆̾͟͞͡͞n͇̰̭̬̥̳̤͛͗̍̅͊̿͌ ę̶͙̬͔͕̺̮͚̄̃̓̉̀̿̑̍̚ͅn̢̛͎̯̥̎͒̔̋̍͊͋͘͢o̴͖͇̯̖̼͒̇̾̀͒͡͞u̦̗̙̻͉̓͊̆̌̕͠g̵̡͓̳̞͙͍͆̑͋͆̏̑͂ͅẖ̗̼̘̆̆̒͌̽̕͜͢͜͢ f̷̢̟͓̮̠̻͈͍̿̎͋͋͐̄͒͜͜r̨̨͚̳͚̮̻̗̆̍̈̅̎͊͘̕͡ǫ͉͈̖̣̹͙̼̼̹͆̇̓͗̒̄̎̆̽m̨̠͖̮͉̎͛͑͐͊͜͠ m̴̢̲͎̰̞̅̉̽͒̿̑͆͐͠ͅe̶͉̣͖͎̺̙̮͖̊̐̂͆͘͞?̧͎̰̦̣͊̊́͒͡͠ͅ   
̛͕̼̦̹͓̮̥͌͂̎͂̋̎̚D̶̢̢̗̼͚̰́̌̄̌͂o̸̧̩̜̪͇͒̃̇̿̐̄̑̋̑̚v̷̥̼͓͉͕̘̲͋͊̊̔̎́͘͡͡i̳̩̥̙̥̾͛̃͘͠ͅc̷̢̨̱̖̖̩̩̅̃͒̔̈͜͝͞u̴̲̤͙̣͚̩̳̎͌͑̐̈̌̀͐̂͊ļ̦̭̲͕̪̲̙̑̏̒̽̈́͞ͅű̧̠̝͚͍͚̰̊̉̍̈̒̔̚ṣ̶̛̝̩̰̫̰̜̩͐͐̌̃̉̏̃ͅ,̢̺̬̟̮̭̏̅͑̌͐̄͟͢͠͝ w̡̨̮̘͔̤̜̓͋̔̈̽̎̽̀͆͠h̸̢̧͈̯̝͚̼̽̓̏̍̓̈́͢͝͞͡y̡̜̗͔̥̜̻̫̆̇̾͂̋̅͋̓ͅ?̶̨͉͍̲̍͊͑͑͢͝  
̡̡̫͕̠̭̓̉̓̇͢͠Ȟ̞̲͓͓̹̼̀͋̃̐̚͜͡a̛͙̖̹̝͙͌͂̉̊̓͂̿̕v̵̛̗͈̦͍͕͉͉̻́̊̈̊͊̾͒͟͡͡ḕ̮̖̮̞͍͗̔͐͡ṇ̸̡̙̲̙̖̩̺̟̔́̒͘͢'̵̢̳̗̣͚̦̙͖̙͊̀͐̀̚͘͘͜͠t̨̟̥̤̫̥̫̜̯̉͌̎̓̚ y̵̰̬͈̭̰͎̗̽̽̏̒͝͝o̶̺̦̘̻̦͓̱̊̄͗̆̃͆͌û͈̺̺̪̩̱̯̮͚̠̃̔͘͠ t̸̡̞̳̲̪̦͍̝̆͊̋͘͠ͅͅa̛̛̟̯̳͙͇͇͉͕̩͋̾̽͛ǩ̨̧͖̠̭͇̤͖̄͊̂̋͐͜ȅ̷̛̗̹̯̣̲̼̌̑̚̕͟͞n̨͙̳̺̖͓̯̪̳̈́͊̌̆̅̾͛͞͡ è̮̘̬̮̂̉͊̅̕͢͟͠͡͝n̶͇͙͔̯̠̜̩̱͍͆́̇̆̉̈́̚͟͝ǫ̶̣̦̝̙͇͍͕̻̿̊̽̆͑̅̓͂̋̌ͅu̸̢̡̱̪̟̬̺̫̾̎̔͊̔̌͝g̡̺̱̺͖̭̖̣͚͊͒̾̏̽̔͋̾͊̇h̷̥̠̞̤̼͊̍͋̿͐̈́ͅ f̶̛̪̠̱̳̻̜̎̉̆͗͆̿̋̽ṝ̹̜͍̖͒͗͋̓̓̀̕͘͜ȍ̶̩̻̹̭̗͖͖͗̓̈͘͜m̨̡͇̼̣͎̟̘͋͗̓̎̽͞͝ m̜͖̮͍̗͍͓͎͗͊̾̿̏̋́͘e̶̢̛̯̱̳̳̝̹͇̜̒͌̈́͒?̴̛̥̼̹͍̲̣̏̔̾͑̿̒̒̈̚  
.  
.

 

It breaks into a run down the hallway, leaving its own blood in its wake. She can hear its feet hitting the hard tiled floor but can’t find it in herself to chase after the creature. It disappears around a hallway corner into the darkness. 

She sinks to her knees clutching at her head, struggling to catch her breath desperately. Lita squeezes her eyes shut tightly, breathing heavily through both her mouths. The skin loosens at the edges of her stomach to greedily suck in more air. The wet slap of skin opening and closing fills the air. She can’t get enough air, can’t breath deeply enough. 

Lita clutches at her head claws digging into her scalp as she shivers. 

She can feel the warmth of Doviculus breath on her neck, the possessive touch of his claws against her hip. His laugh reverberates against her throat. The edge of his tusk bites into flesh as she speaks so clearly it makes Lita’s blood go cold. _“Did you think you could escape me? What a laughable notion on your part.”_

All Lita can do is claw at herself, jaws tightening as she tensed more into herself. She feels hands all over her body, demonic fingers digging into flesh and twisting it away to reveal bone, muscle and organs. 

The sound of voices only register when a hand settles against her back. Lita recoils from it with a frightened sound. “No- no!” She expects Doviculus to be looming over her. She expects the demon emperor to haul her to her feet and-

Lars standing there is not what she expects, nor what she wants. Eddie and Ophelia a few feet behind him is even worse. The disgust on Eddie’s face only confirms the worst. 

“Lita-” Lars stares back at her, worry in his eyes. The worry replaced with horror when Lita realizes her face is sliding off. She pushes away from him, hands flying to her face to try and keep it in place.She clutches at herself, slapping her skin in place. It takes a moment before the skin wetly settles back into place. She realizes dully the blood from the tubing has stopped bleeding out, but has left smokey holes in the floor. 

“Don’t, don’t look at me.” She whispers, voice shaking. He wasn’t supposed to see her like this. He shouldn’t know what she is. “I’m a monster.” 

Lars takes a careful step forward, extending his hand towards her. Determination settles over his features, he squares his shoulders as he settles down on one knee before her. “Lita.” There is a pause as he adds more softly, “Little sister. I'm here for you.” 

Anger is a comfort, so much easier than vulnerability. Easier than letting herself fall to pieces, not again. Not here. She shivers bodily, crawling backwards flashing her teeth at him. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Do not forget, sister. I’m a stubborn sort.” He holds his ground, “It is a family trait. One you bemoaned quite a bit before.” 

“I am no family of yours.” She spits out, trying to stand but finding her legs unable to push her up. “I’m barely human. I am no longer human now.” 

“Well, at least she admits it.” Eddie mutters lowly under his breath. Lars shoots Eddie a withering look, Ophelia elbows him harshly. “Eddie Riggs!” The roadie winces “Hey, I’m-” 

The words cut, but Lita can’t deny it. How can she? She’s an abomination. Lita knows she doesn’t belong anywhere now. 

“He’s right.” Lita finally finds herself able to stand, “I- forget about me.” Her legs feel weak under her, but she can’t just stay here. Lars doesn’t deserve this. He’s never deserved _this_. Lars deserved freedom, he deserved humanity. 

“I refuse.” Lars snarls at her, his anger stalls her from moving. “Lita Halford! If you run, I will follow.” He stomps towards her, jabbing her in the stomach in frustration. She winces away from his poking, stomach tightening on itself in terror. Lars persists regardless. “You cannot get rid of me after I’ve been searching for you.” 

“I’m not the same person I was.” She states softly, feeling disarmed by her brother. A way she hasn’t felt in a very long time.

“Neither am I Lita.” His hand balls into a fist as he taps it against his chest. “War has changed us, has forged us into new people. It has not been kind to you.” His hand relaxes before cautiously reaching out to take her own. “I want.. I want you to have kindness again.” 

He squeezes her hand, holding her gaze firmly. “Please. Let me give you some kindness.” 

Lita sucks in a weak breath, avoiding his eyes as she hunches into herself. “I-” Her words fail her, she struggles to say anything for a long moment. Long enough Lars speaks.

“Do you think- for one moment I would let you slink off to be alone?” He continues forcefully, stubbornness only being proven in spades. It is so… Lars in a way she has missed. “When has that ever worked?”

She laughs weakly, “Never.” Lita remembers countless times she’s run off as a child and Lars would follow. He always swept in to comfort her, to make sure she wasn’t really hurt. Lita can always remember Lars stepping in to take over when her frustrations boiled over. Lars was her older brother, the only person in her world for such a long time.

“Then, please. Let me take care of you.” 

“O-okay.” She chokes out after a moment. “Okay.” That is more than enough for Lars to reach out and try to hug her. His attempts are awkward and feeble given their height differences. All Lita can do is give a watery laugh as she sinks back to her knees to cautiously wrap an arm around him. She keeps her injured arm down, half afraid she’ll hurt Lars. 

“You know, you weren’t supposed to get taller than I am.” The comment earns another wet laugh from Lita. She buries her face in his shoulder. He strokes her hair gently, as she just holds onto him. 

It takes her a moment to realize she’s crying, but she can’t stop even then. Lars simply holds onto her, making comforting noises as he embraces her. 

“Things will be fine, little sister.” His voice is soft against her hair and it just makes her tears so much worse.

She can almost believe him.


End file.
